Threading
by Genetically Empowered
Summary: How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on... when in your heart... you begin to understand... there is no going back? The survivors have been rescued. Slightly spoilery for upcoming episodes. (Chap. 4 up! Michael!centric)
1. The End of All Things

**A/N:** Okay, this is meant to be a series of one shots…we'll see just how the word 'series' plays into it. This is AU, as it deals with the survivors return to civilization. I'm hoping to do one chapter for every main character. I may, or may not complete that task. Hopefully, I shall complete it. nods

_Warning!_ Parts of this story will be SPOILERY! I'm a spoiler-whore and I read as many of them as I possibly can. If I know something is going to happen in advance, it may very well work it's way into this story. Label yourselves warned. passes out stickers

_Disclaimer_: I don't own LOST, ABC, or Disney. This story is mine, however. But don't sue me, because all you'll get is my Gil-Galad action figure. Which I'd rather you not take…he's brand-new.

****

Threading

By: Elurandir

How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on... when in your heart... you begin to understand... there is no going back?

-Frodo (Return of the King)

__

The End of All Things

The tide had nearly come into the jungle, at it's peak. All of the fuselage had nearly been submerged, save the few pieces that jutted skyward higher than five feet. They hadn't been able to save everything, but that had been okay.

It didn't escape them that, had Michael's raft lasted longer, they could have sailed away on the tide and been far out to sea and possibly rescued. It was a pity it had gone up in flames.

The survivors had resorted to going further into the jungle, as the tide had come up. Which, inevitably, brought the bears out. Such noise, and the smell of the food and garbage, the bears had hoped to find easy meals. And they had, three survivors had disappeared, their bodies found days later…at least, what was left of them.

The Others were still out there, though they seemed, with time, more of a myth than a threat. Ethan had been the radical of the group, it seemed, and once he had been taken care of, no one else bothered them. Danielle hadn't been found, Sayid had even returned to her 'home', seeking advice on the Others. It had been abandoned.

Whispers in the wind were all that reminded anyone of Them. Whispers, Charlie, and Claire. No one could forget what happened to them. What happened to the baby.

The island's idea of time was skewed. If it even bothered worrying about time. Sometimes it didn't seem like it did. Night would last too long, or sometimes the daylight seemed to go on for days. Seasons never changed, and the only way the survivors knew time, was by the watches they wore…all of which eventually stopped.

Time was relative anyway, wasn't it? A concept made up by humanity and enforced only by humanity. The island didn't seem to really care about humanity's concepts.

Claire had been pregnant for nearing 11 months, if you cared about humanity's concepts. Which, of course, the island didn't pay heed to. Her baby had come quickly…in a few hours, and it was healthy. No sterility, no medication, no anesthesia, no IVs, no monitors, and certainly no nice, comfortable hospital setting. And still her baby lived.

They never seemed to run out of bullets either. Like Legolas never runs out of arrows. It made hunting boar much more effective, until they had built fences and began the process of domestication.

Michael built water irrigation systems, roofs for homes, 'showers'. Sun's garden flourished, and it seemed that island-life was tolerable, and everyone quit surviving and began to live.

Until Steve spotted the boat.

He had been out on the beach. The tide had suddenly, and mysteriously shrank back several yards, revealing sand. Pools had formed and Jin, along with Hurley and Steve had gone to retrieve what fish and other edible creatures were unlucky enough to be caught in them.

Steve had been daydreaming, staring out at the turquoise water, when Hurley had tossed an urchin at him. The abrupt slam back into reality, caused his vision to slam into focus. He'd blinked several times, narrowed his eyes, walked out to stand thigh-deep in the waves before he'd convinced himself he wasn't hallucinating. Then, without a word to Jin or Hurley, he'd turned and left for the caves at a dead run.

His flailing jog had been cut short when he'd collided with Sawyer leaving Cavetown. The pair had tumbled over, Sawyer's weekly water supply dosing Rose and Walt. Steve ignored Sawyer's obligatory nickname and foul language, up and out of sight in record time.

Jack was the leader, after all, and he should come see what Steve had found.

Boy scouts across the world would have been completely impressed with how quickly Sayid and Jack had created a signal fire. The boat was a fishing boat. A large, commercial one, by the looks. Gathered deep sea fish like tuna and such. Locke knows everything, so who would question his sizing up of the ship? Or who wanted to at that point.

For the 4 hours it took the boat to reach the island, everyone did nothing but stand and stare. Even the baby was silent. What a strange sight, 42 men, women, and children standing on a god-forsaken island in the middle of the sea. Just standing, inches out of waves' reach. Staring at their salvation.

And, for once, Sun's mastering of both Korean and English came in handy. And what a way to announce it to her husband. The fishermen were Korean, and very, very confused.

-

There's nothing quite so shocking as being on a boat after having not seen one for months. Plates, cups…fans, it all suddenly seemed so new.

Relief shrouded the survivors, and joy masked any fear or uncertainty. Had they known, perhaps Steve may never have fetched Jack in the first place.

Time does funny things to the mind. It changes things, resets things, and it has a way of healing over parts of your life you didn't even know were wounds. And the island's disregard for humanity's silly notion of time would prove to make life much more unbearable than it had even been before.

Reality? We'll take whispers and polar bears any day.

OOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

There you have it. First chapter duh-duh-done! This is my second LOST fic, so let me know what you think! Review are like the drugs to mah Charlie, so send 'em my way, plzthnx.


	2. Doctor Hero

_Warning!_ Parts of this story will be SPOILERY! I'm a spoiler-whore and I read as many of them as I possibly can. If I know something is going to happen in advance, it may very well work it's way into this story. Label yourselves warned.

_Disclaimer_: I don't own LOST, ABC, or Disney. This story is mine, however. Don't sue me.

****

Threading

By: Elurandir

How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on... when in your heart... you begin to understand... there is no going back?

-Frodo (Return of the King)

__

Dr. Hero

He had felt as though his heart would burst, as he pieced together Steve's wheezed relay of what he'd seen on the horizon.

A boat.

Rescue.

Jack had turned to fix his brown eyes on Kate's blue ones, and they exchanged a meaningful look. What it meant, he never could really tell until he looked back on it. Something he hadn't had the opportunity to really do.

He'd ran. Ran all the way to the shore, barely registering Locke, Boone, Charlie, and Kate joining him. He'd pulled himself to a sloppy halt midway to the water, eyes searching the horizon. Hurley pointed it out, he and Jin having found the boat…no, ship, in Steve's absence. Kate was at his side instantly, and it was at that moment, a brief realization dawned on him, one that would continue to plague him later. She always was at his side. No matter what, no matter where he went on that island, she was with him. She never strayed for long, before she was right there, back at his side.

Island-life had been a nightmare, if he was being honest. At least, to begin with. He had to help some 40-odd people to survive in a place he knew nothing about, with things happening that he knew nothing about. Danger, death, polar bears, and whispers. Who was he to know what to do? It hadn't mattered. God had graced him with the ability to think with a level-head, and thus he'd been saddled with the label of leader. Like Aragorn was voted leader without the want, just because of an ancient bloodline. Those in charge, it seemed, never really wanted to be.

Which aggravating him more, at times. The reluctant leader, Doctor Hero. Saving lives and taking charge. He gets the girl and saves the day. But first, there was toil and frustration, secrets and lies, bad guys and good guys. Cowboys and Indians, whatever you wanted to label the workings as. Jack had been placed on the front lines, mounted on a white steed. Which was something that never made sense to Jack. Why put your leader on a blinding white horse and place him on the front lines? Why not make certain his uniform consisted of a red bullseye on the chest as well? Nevertheless, he had excepted the role with little vocal complaining. That's what leaders do, afterall.

He'd fought Ethan, brought Charlie back to life, delivered Claire's baby, saved Jin from a near lynching, fought Ethan again, saved more lives. Dealt out judgment and predictions on the weather. He did it all. And he did it with Kate at his side.

It was only fitting that she was there when he went to greet the fishermen that had rowed to shore in a small boat. Adam and Eve, ambassadors of Mystery Island. Hadn't helped much. They didn't speak a word of Korean. But Kate knew Sun did, and she knew Sun spoke English.

Was it odd that every time Jack thought of eucalyptus, or saw the word Sunday on his calendar he thought of that Korean woman? Gardens brought back memories of her as well. Fish reminded him of Jin. Fish and handcuffs.

They were taken onto the ship four at a time. Jack, Kate, Locke, and Sayid were the last to hop on board. Sayid had hoped Danielle might show up by some fluke of chance. But then, the island only believed in fluke of chance when it suited it's fancy. It must have wanted Danielle.

He had sat, mostly in silence with Kate once onboard, sometimes he would communicate with the captain through Sun. The ship took them to Australia, where they were promptly taken to a hospital.

Jack was convinced that hospitals were created with the idea to blind those that entered it. Not to mention freeze them out. Blinding white floors, white walls, white chairs, white coats, white gowns, white scrubs, white fluorescent lights, white ceilings. It was enough white to drive a man mad. He found Sawyer's idea of donning sunglasses very agreeable at one point, but braved through the searing white without them. A shiver ran through him as he sat in an uncomfortable white chair, waiting to be seen. Had his hospital ever been this cold? He couldn't really remember. A nagging voice explained that he had grown accustomed to the climate on the island and air conditioning was something he would have to get used to all over again, but he still chose to believe that this hospital was particularly cold…and blinding. He hadn't seen real white in ages. Or rather, man-made white. The clouds and shells he'd been gazing at were white enough.

Jack had thought the title 'doctor' had been aggravating on the island. He loathed it now.

"I'm a _doctor_, I know what my problems are and I don't need a check-up." he'd repeated that phrase a dozen times, and had even threatened violence on one man before they took his statement seriously. "How's the baby? Where's Kate?" he'd repeated over and over as well. Most didn't answer him, and the answers he got from those that did, weren't the ones to the questions he was asking. 'Sit down' did not answer 'How's the baby'. And 'Can you do an interview' certainly didn't answer the question 'Where's Kate'.

Riding in vehicles was something else that Jack had nearly forgotten about. An odd sensation, really, and he decided on the way to the hotel that he could count himself into the percentage of the population that got queasy riding in the backseat.

It hit him again, as he sat down to answer an onslaught of questions from a variety of news sources, that Kate was usually always by his side. He actually looked over, during one interview, and then around the room…which seemed far too small, wondering where she was. She always showed up. Sooner or later. Why was now any different than before? He kept his gaze stubbornly fixed on the door, waiting for her to come through. He answered questions about reviving Rose at the initial crash, taking care of Sawyer's arm, reviving Charlie, delivering Claire's baby, what it was like to work in such dramatic conditions. He answered what they ate, where he slept, what he had thought about the delayed rescue, who he had bonded with most.

"Kate." he answered, and his voice almost sounded as if he were addressing her. She wasn't there. And, when the two hour interview session had ended, she still wasn't there. Jack was escorted from the Meeting Room, to his hotel room, and not once did he catch glimpse nor mention of her. A situation that left him empty and aching.

The bed was uncomfortable, and the room too cold and too small. His mother had called him, and he found talking on the phone very, very irritating. The hum of the fluorescent light was too loud, and he chose to sit in darkness to bring about silence. The TV, he left on, muted with subtitles. They were all over the news. Locke, Charlie, Claire, Sawyer, Sayid….Kate.

Apparently, search crews were going to return to the island eventually. The fishermen had plotted the island out, had the location. They were going to salvage anything they could, search for the black box, search for Danielle and the Others. Jack had a sneaking suspicion they wouldn't find any of it. The island wouldn't want it.

It was a funny thing, how Jack had begun to think of the island as it's own entity and not just a landmass. It was John Locke's doing, he'd been the first to refer to the island as if it had it's own agenda. Charlie had begun it as well, eventually, as had Boone. Jack never said it aloud, though his mind picked up the idea for him.

He flipped through a few of the local channels, the remote control feeling queer and unfamiliar in his grasp. Most channels were flashing scenes of their return to Australia. He briefly wondering if anyone else had been watching this. And, of course, by 'anyone', he meant the survivors. The rest of the world didn't really hold a place to him anymore. They'd forgotten him, afterall.

His father's death had been asked about, mentioning, run through over and over again. Sawyer's involvement had been brought up as well. What did it matter anymore? He'd smashed the coffin, moved on, moved past the death of the man that once so thoroughly controlled his every waking move. Jack had been his own man for months. He'd been a hero for months. All those years upon years working in a blinding land of sterility, saving lives, and not once had he been a hero. Now, that's all he was. Doctor Hero, nice to meet you. All the best cowboys have daddy issues, that's how it worked out. What's a hero without a condescending father?

Jack ran a hand over his head. He'd had it shaved again, along with his beard. Afterward, he'd sat for several minutes just running his hands over his face and head. Now, he wished he hadn't done it. It felt odd, and it felt new. Just like this hotel room, just like the city outside, just like the vehicle he'd ridden over here in.

He wanted something that resembled some form of familiarity. He wanted comfort and he wanted something that he _knew_.

He wanted Kate.

OOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Second chapter. Wootwoot. I have a sneaking suspicion that this might end up being more than I had originally planned. Which, is both exciting and a bit foreboding. Mehh.

Sayid is next, methinks. That could change though.

Why? Because what fun would it be to toss Kate in right after Jack? No fun at all!

Review please? I would greatly appreciate it.


	3. This Life

_Warning!_ Parts of this story will be SPOILERY! I'm a spoiler-whore and I read as many of them as I possibly can. If I know something is going to happen in advance, it may very well work it's way into this story. Label yourselves warned. passes out stickers

_Disclaimer_: I don't own LOST, ABC, or Disney. This story is mine, however.

****

Threading

By: Elurandir

_How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on... when in your heart... you begin to understand... there is no going back?_

_-Frodo (Return of the King)_

__

This Life

He'd been skeptical at first. A boat? After _this_ long? Steve had never been very reliable, even. But, when Jack and Kate immediately took off after the other man, Charlie not far behind, he went as well.

He'd jogged after them, his mind already setting himself up for whatever Steve had seen to be gone. He distracted himself by being amused by how Charlie never seemed to be able to run without flailing and nearly falling several times.

They'd reached the shore and he vaguely thought of Shannon. The ocean always made him think of her. Still did, if he admitted it. By the time they'd arrived, Jin and Hurley were already distracted from their previous task, watching the horizon line. Hurley shouted radically every so often, waving his arms, as if he might be seen.

A ship.

An actual ship could be spotted on the horizon.

"Move." Sayid heard his voice before he thought of what he was saying. He headed back towards the jungle. "We need wood, lots of it. The only way we're going to be spotted is if we start a fire immediately." he sounded so sure and confident that a fire would help save them.

He, Jack, Kate, and Charlie had never worked so hard in their lives. Charlie left before it was over though, flailing back to the caves for Claire and the rest of the survivors. In record time, the fire was blazing and they were stoking it continuously. Hurley had appointed himself the annoying man that stood at the shoreline, screaming and waving like a lunatic. No one said anything to him, though. Despite the fact they all knew it didn't help at all, they were all wanting to do the same thing.

By all accounts, the ship probably never should have spotted the mediocre fire, never should have sailed closer to investigate. The flames weren't nearly as high as Sayid would have liked them, the smoke no where near black enough to make a very lasting impression in the clear blue sky.

But still they came. And salvation was delivered in the form of 15 Korean fishermen.

Sayid had stood alongside Shannon, the one person that had become his closest companion. The one who had slowly become something so much more than a companion. She was first in line to climb onto the small boat the Koreans had come ashore on. She turned back to him, waiting for him to join her.

"Danielle," was all he had said, and Shannon's face went blank and with a curt nod she'd climbed onto the boat with Boone, Walt, Claire and her baby. Shannon never really understood why Sayid searched so hard for the older French woman, when it was so obvious she hadn't wanted to be found.

Sayid didn't know why either. But he felt such a strong sense of pity for the woman, such a strong sense of wanting to save her from this dreadful life she'd been living for so long. Sometimes, when he'd been scouring the jungle and night would start falling, he would imagine that he could hear that music box playing. It would drown out the whispers and the rustling, and Sayid would feel as though he were being watched. He still never found her.

He'd been on the last boat to leave the island. Danielle never showed up, not that she would have known, or anything of that sort. But he still found himself hoping that she would, by chance, stumble upon the rescue and join them. Such luck did not befall him, and he stepped into the boat, and they were rowed away.

Sayid watched the island until it had faded out of sight. Despite his relief, he couldn't help but feel a bit of him fading as well. Shannon was by his side, head on his shoulder.

"I won't miss that place," she had said smugly. Sayid didn't respond. He had a feeling she was quite wrong.

-

The interviews had been horrid. Flashing cameras and shouted questions. More than once, Sayid has wished in vain he was back in those dark caves, wished he was underneath the jungle's canopy.

His interviews spanned past his island experience and into his experience as part of the Republican Guard. What did it matter? Sayid had thought. That was ages ago and he wasn't the same anymore. That life was gone, lost somewhere. Rehashing his days as a soldier made him rehash his days with Nadia, and the pain that had dissipated, the wounds on his heart that had healed, they were reopened and Sayid head began to pound after the first three interviews.

_This life or the next_….

Sayid felt as if he were between lives. Nadia was gone, dead or lost. The old Sayid was gone, dead _and_ lost. The photograph of Nadia…he hadn't seen it, or really even thought about it in months. Shannon had been his breath of fresh air, and he had needed it.

Shannon.

She was, unsurprisingly, eating up the press and had become their darling almost immediately. Boone always in the background, though he clung more to Locke than he did to Shannon. Always the brother though, he made certain she didn't make any stupid moves, or wasn't harassed.

Shannon, who had changed so drastically in the last months, was reverting back to the beginning, back to those first few days. Sayid found himself resenting her more than he was missing her. But he did miss her. It was sort of a silly notion to miss someone when they were never more than a few rooms apart. But a few rooms could seem like miles when you hadn't had to deal with walls in months.

Building, Sayid was coming to believe, were a bad idea. Being up five stories was quite different than being on the ground, and he had never noticed that before.

When the interviews were finally over, Sayid wanted nothing more than to retreat to his hotel room and not leave for weeks. The moment he went into the room, he had kept all the lights off, and turned the air off as well. The room was less offensive when it wasn't cold or brightly lit. He couldn't resist turning the tv on, though he muted it, not bothering with subtitles.

Nearing midnight, a knock sounded on his door. Sayid merely glanced at the door, before moving his dark gaze back to the flashing images on the television.

"Sayid! It's me," Shannon's light voice floated through the door, but Sayid didn't budge. "Sayid!" she knocked again. "Michael said he saw you come in here," she called, letting him know she knew he was in there. They were all in the same hotel, all on the same floor, which had been shut off to paparazzi and everyone else as well.

Sayid couldn't bring himself to answer the door, and instead, he moved and laid down on the bed, the softness foreign, but welcome. He stared blankly at the wall, the television flashing shadows on the walls. If he thought hard, he could hear Danielle's music box. He wished he knew what song it played.

Nadia had promised this life or the next. But he had been through two and she was still lost. Things were changing. This was his new life. His third lifetime in one. How did that happen to a person, and what did that do to you?

He thought back to Shannon. It was simple on the island. He helped prove to her that she wasn't useless, and she helped him figure out Danielle's maps. They had learnt to rely on one another, and her company was something that Sayid had craved daily. She had changed, after the split between herself and her brother, and after Claire's return from Ethan. She was softer, and she didn't bother so much with her shallow façade.

Some nights, when they would lie near the fire, she would sing to him. In French, usually, and it was always "the fish song". It never got old though. Not to Sayid. He had found a home on that island, he had found a way to be at ease and at peace with himself and the world. Shannon had helped him.

But now, now things had been jolted, and he felt as though he had awakened from a dream, or a coma. He felt as though his life had been put on hold, then on fast forward. He had no time to catch up, and no way to do so. The only thing he could do was start over.

A brand-new everything.

"Sayid," Shannon's voice had become softer, though her knocking persisted. "Please…?"

Sayid didn't respond.

OOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Third chapter. Wootwoot. I have a sneaking suspicion that this might end up being more than I had originally planned. Which, is both exciting and a bit foreboding. Mehh.

I've no idea who's next. So…it'll be a surprise.

**Fair-Ithil:** I know, I feel bad for all of them. Having to be thrust back into society and all. It has to be rough. This would be a bit tougher than learning to survive on the island, because there, the sole purpose of everyone for awhile was just to survive. But when you get back, there's no struggle just to live, when everything is handed to you, so all that's left to cope with is the mental aspects of it all.

**Evermore:** Thanks very much! Frodo's line always jumps into my head every time one of the survivor's mention being rescued. I had to jump on it for a fic.

**Vainfinde:** If you came back and read this story, I hope you enjoyed it! I know some people don't much care for spoilers, so I try to keep the ones I drop in this one very vague, unless it's already happened.

Review please? I would greatly appreciate it.


	4. Special

_Warning!_ Parts of this story will be SPOILERY! I'm a spoiler-whore and I read as many of them as I possibly can. If I know something is going to happen in advance, it may very well work it's way into this story. Label yourselves warned. passes out stickers

_Disclaimer_: I don't own LOST, ABC, or Disney. This story is mine, however.

_A/N:_ (moment of silence for Scott.)

****

Threading

By: Elurandir

_How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on... when in your heart... you begin to understand... there is no going back?_

_-Frodo (Return of the King)_

__

Special

Steve had spotted a boat.

He hadn't believed it, not at first. Not when the other man had burst into Cavetown declaring they were finally saved. Not after four months stranded on this island. Not after he had finally accepted his fate with these people.

And when Jack, Charlie, Kate, and Sayid all left with Steve to the beach, he was _still_ skeptical. He didn't move from where he was idly watching Walt play with the toy boat he had fashioned out of wood and leaves upon his son's request earlier in the day.

Then Charlie returned not too long after he had left, scooping up Claire's baby and demanding everyone follow quickly, Steve was telling the truth. Then…then, Michael believed.

"Walt, let's go," he said abruptly, moving quickly over to Vincent and grabbing the vine leash that Locke had created a month earlier for the wandering canine. Michael was halfway across the open area when he turned back to see Walt still playing with the boat. "WALT!" he barked, and his son only then got up, leaving the little boat still floating in the pool of water. "What did I tell you about listening to me?" Michael said in a weary voice. "You think you can just sit around? Did you hear Charlie? We're rescued," he said, taking his son by the arm and making certain the boy kept the quick pace Michael had set.

They reached the beach, and stood, with everyone else, and awaited the ship to grow closer. Even Vincent stood alert and silent, staring out at the sea.

Michael was on the first boat. He and his son were getting off this God-forsaken island as quickly as possible. With a hint of bitterness, Michael thought back to his own raft, the one that had gone up in mysterious flames. He scowled for a moment, but then grinned down at Walt and patted Vincent's head jovially. "We're saved! What'd I tell you, Little Man? I knew we'd get off this place one day." he said and breathed in the ocean air. Suddenly, the salty breeze and warm sun felt very refreshing and no longer common. He thought with a smirk that perhaps he would never vacation to the beach ever, ever again. Mountains and Disney World for him, thanks. No oceans, maybe not even large lakes. And flying was certainly out. As Michael wondered idly if boats went from Australia to America, he caught Sun looking over at him.

Michael's mood sobered almost immediately, and he kept her dark-eyed gaze for a moment, before looking back out and watching the island fade into the distance. He had made a secret friend in Sun, and sometimes he fancied that maybe they would be something more, if not for Jin. Said man was actively speaking to one of the fishermen in Korean, not bothering to pay much attention to Sun, other than to keep a firm hand around her waist. He thought that he would miss her soft voice and sound advice, once they all went their separate ways. And he wondered if she'd miss him.

-

Michael had forgotten all about Sun by the time the interviews were halfway through. He had to be at every one of his, _and_ every one of Walt's. Not only that, but he had to deal with what's-his-name, Walt's adopted father. The man had appeared, looking so frenzied Michael doubted his sanity. Vincent was back in their hotel room, and Michael didn't mention the dog, neither did Walt. Mercifully, the man never mentioned the canine either. Walt greeted him warmly, throwing his arms around his neck and clinging like he was afraid to let go, which made things very awkward for Michael; not that anyone noticed.

Finally, Michael had to tug Walt away from the other man, and lead him off, much to Walt's discontent.

"You're my son," Michael snapped in agitation. "I'm your legal guardian, and I'm your real father," he said in a huff, almost wishing he'd told Walt to the truth about how the other man didn't want him and practically pushed custody onto Michael. But the moment he thought it, he took it back. He knew he couldn't crush Walt like that, especially after all that had gone on. And what the other man had said was different and creepy about Walt….Michael had learnt, not only from Locke, but from his own experience, that it wasn't creepy….it was special.

-

"I miss the beach," Walt said in a huffy tone as they sat in their hotel room. "It's too cold here."

"We have to get used to it, Little Man, we're back in civilization now." Michael said with a smile, though secretly, he agreed with his son. He hadn't thought that would be the case, but he found himself wishing he could hear the roar of the ocean and the whisper of the wind through the trees.

"I don't see what's so special about it," Walt snapped. "Mr. Locke says you don't need buildings and stuff to be civilized." he paraphrased the older man, participating in a dull staring contest with Vincent.

"I'm sure he did, Walt," Michael responded, a hint of aggravation in his voice.

"Are we going to see Mr. Locke again? And what about Claire? She had said that I could help her with the baby…"

"Things've changed," Michael cut his son off abruptly. "We're not on the island anymore, Walt. Claire will probably stay here in Australia, and we're going back to the US as soon as possible."

"Mr. Locke is from-"

"He's not where we're from," Michael cut the boy off again and laid down on the bed. "Go to sleep, Walt," he said, his mood turned sour. He heard Walt huff and shuffle around before feeling the bed shift with the weight of his son climbing onto it. Neither used the sheets or comforter.

It took Michael hours to fall asleep, the silence deafening and his thoughts having to scream to be heard over it.

"I wish we never had been rescued," he heard Walt whisper, sniffling, and Michael's blood ran cold for a moment.

"Don't say that, Little Man," he said, his voice a bit raspy from having not spoken in a few hours. "Don't ever say that."

Because Michael knew that, with Walt, you had to be very, _very_ careful what you wished for.

OOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Fourth chapter. Wootwoot. Sorry this one isn't as long as the others have been. I'm not as comfortable with Michael's character as I am with the others. This one also dealt a little bit with Walt, because I figure they both tie in together quite closely. It also had more dialogue, which surprised me, I hadn't planned on it having so much.

Don't know who's next. I'll probably wait until after this coming Wednesday's episode and see where I'm at.

**Fair-Ithil:** Sayid does have bad luck. And…after that last chapter, I backed myself into a corner of having to do more than one chapter a character, because, as Shayid fan myself…I must have them talk to one another! (grin)

**Vainfinde:** Yay! You came back! I shall try to keep the chapters as spoiler-free as possible so that you can keep reading. I am completely emotionally invested in these characters. Heh. I loves them all.

**LunaCohen:** Hee! Charlie/Claire are my favourite couple on the island…I can't help but love the adorableness of the good ship "Charlie Loves Babymama". I do like Shayid as well, though, and…I'm already planning on having another chapter so they can talk. Because…they need to. (grin)

**Msik: **Thanks! I hope I haven't dropt the ball on my characterization of Michael. (crosses fingers)

Review please? I would greatly appreciate it.


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